


Fateful Misery [Seonghwa X San] [Ateez]

by junkoalacutie



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Angst, Client San, Fluff, Romance, Tattoo Artist Seonghwa, kpop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-01-20 20:57:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18533035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junkoalacutie/pseuds/junkoalacutie
Summary: Park Seonghwa is a tattoo artist, and a damn good one at that. And Choi San, well, he doesn't really know what he is. Two seemingly random people who just happened to cross paths, sharing a rather nice conversation in the process. What will happen when fate causes them to collide again, and why does it seem less like a convenient meeting and more like a crash landing?





	1. Lost

Buzzing.

Specifically, the buzzing of tattoo needles hard at work on whatever blank canvas had walked into the parlour.

Park Seonghwa was an artist in Roses & Thorns, a local tattoo shop on the outskirts of Seoul. It was never particularly busy, but it wasn't exactly struggling either. There was always a customer willing to get inked, and it was rare to see a day with no new faces. Of course, being just outside of a city had its ups and downs. There was always someone better just a few miles in, with just a few more five-star ratings and a few less drunk people. Although, anyone who went to Roses & Thorns could tell you that it had one of the best artists around, and there was no one better for miles. And although he was reluctant to admit it, even Park Seonghwa himself knew that he was a damn good worker. Fairly well known, but not enough. Could have been more, but he refused to join any form of social media, maintaining his reasons. Never one to be good in the spotlight. Maybe.

A pleasant bell sounded, bringing Seonghwa back to reality, where his newest client had just walked through the door. Putting his sketch on pause, he shut his notepad and greeted the customer with a smile and a few words, before guiding him to a desk where he would discuss the tattoo. Usual routine. The guy was nothing special, asking for a short quote on his rib. When asked what it was from, the man just smiled and said he knows people. So, maybe a little quirky, but he was far from the worst. At least he didn't squirm about during the process, and once the tattoo was done he paid fully and thanked the employees. It was quite a smooth process actually, and Seonghwa was glad, because the few tattoos he did after that were bumpy rides. Despite this, when he finally got a break all he did was continue sketching. And that's all he did for the rest of the day. And when he got home, he ate a good, filling meal in front of the TV. Then continued sketching until he got tired. The man was a work machine, a perfectionist when it came to his art. It was one of the reasons he could never post on social media; he was constantly revisiting past pieces and improving them. Adding small details whenever he had the time. 

The next day didn't seem too promising either. A few regulars, some roadies getting the same boring tattoos, and a divorced guy getting a cover-up of a tattoo he regretted. Nothing special, nothing interesting. So he went through a repeat of the day before. Continuously working.

And that was how the next day went.

And the next.

And it went on like this for a while. Uneventful, repeated days, with nothing to do but sketch. 

Park Seonghwa was the best tattoo artist for miles around, and yet despite this, his life was surprisingly uneventful. Ordinary. But could one day change his life for the foreseeable future?


	2. Unknown

Another day began with the ring of a bell, which was beginning to get on Seonghwa's nerves. 

It was strange, really. He never imagined himself getting bored with his job, it was something he looked forward to when his alarm woke him up in the morning. At least, he used to look forward to it. Now he just dragged himself out of bed and went through his usual routine. It wasn't exactly like he hated it, it was just becoming repetitive. A chore, rather than a hobby. But how could he move? Change his life around? It wasn't like he could just switch careers, art was still his passion. Plus, he dropped out of school at fifteen to focus on his tattoos. In retrospect, it wasn't the smartest idea he'd ever had, but then again, he wasn't the smartest kid. Really, the fact that he'd found a job so early after dropping out had been a miracle, because without a place to work he probably would have been homeless. And he wouldn't have gone through any of the experiences he now had under his belt, or met some of the extraordinary people he knew now. Like the one that was just about to walk through the door. 

*ding*

The first thing Seonghwa noticed was his smile. Brighter than the sun, its light illuminated the room. Seonghwa reckoned he fell in love for that split second. But only that second, nothing more and nothing less. Then it was up to his eyes; they skipped around the room, not nervously, but rather curiously. Something about this person seemed new; fresh almost. A welcome change for Seonghwa. Before Seonghwa had the opportunity to admire the rest of the unknown customer, he was thrown back to his senses by a voice.

"Hello, what's your name?"

The tattoo artist's eyes flickered up before finding the source: the refreshing smile of the client. He took a second to compose himself and detach from his thoughts and then forced an answer out of his mouth. Like any good, self-respecting professional would do. 

"Hi there! My name is Park Seonghwa, I'm an artist here. What can I help you with today?"

There. The professional Seonghwa was back in business. This man wasn't anything different, he was here to get a normal tattoo at a normal parlour. Nothing new. Nothing to worry about.

"I was wondering what the price was for a small neck tattoo? I even brought in my own design, I'm hoping you could use it, it's quite important to me..."

Nevermind, Seonghwa was looking forward to this. This guy had obviously never got a tattoo before, and he was getting a neck tattoo. For his first experience! 

"Yes, of course I can! I'm free right now, would you like to come through and talk about your tattoo? Oh, and the price of the tattoo will depend on the size, so we can work it out through here." 

He signalled towards a chair at the back of the store, next to his workstation. 

This was going to be fun. Or, at the very least, very interesting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading this, I know it's short but I hope you enjoy it anyway. The next chapter should be up soon, so please look forward to that!  
> ~Jesse


	3. Jigsaw

Seonghwa caught a glimpse of the man's smile before he turned on his heels, determined to keep a professional mindset and do his job properly. But damn, did the guy have such a nice smile. It may sound cliche, but it really did light up the room. He didn't know how he was going to make it through this session without embarrassing himself. God, it was as if he was back in school, experiencing a crush for the first time all over again.

Remember: professional.

He sat down opposite the man, trying as hard as he could to not make eye contact. His eyes wandered about the room, observing the worn artwork, none of which was new to him.

Sometimes he wished he could just tear it down and start anew, but he knew it was impossible. Seeing five years of his life displayed on the walls was exposing for him, having his raw emotions shown to everyone in the form of his art. It hurt a little sometimes, especially when he was alone in the shop. 

Pushing past these negative thoughts, he focused back into reality and grabbed a pen from his desk.

"So, a neck tattoo, huh? Pretty bold, what's the design?" His voice rang out through the near-empty shop, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he tried desperately to seem normal. It didn't work, instead making him sound a little patronising. Despite this, the client didn't seem to notice and reached into his pocket. If he did notice, he hid it well, only smiling along. 

Pulling a slip of paper from his pocket, the young man set it down on the table in front of him. Even from the size, Seonghwa was intrigued, as it was no bigger than the palm of his hand. He was even more intrigued when the paper was unfolded, discovering that the design was simply three letters. A name, perhaps. 'SAN'. He had been expecting a date, or something intricate and boring. Maybe this job wasn't going to be so boring after all.

"This is it. I know, kinda disappointing for a 'bold' neck tattoo. Sorry." 

"Hey, no need to be sorry, it's your tattoo anyway. I quite like the simplicity. If you don't mind me asking, what does it mean?" 

Seonghwa noticed the man's lip twitch. His throat move as he gulped. His hand travel to the back of his neck to scratch at it nervously. Did he say something wrong?

"Not really. Just a name, nothing too special."

Obviously, there was something special about it, but Seonghwa wasn't about to pry too far into a client's life if it wasn't needed. The poor guy was clearly uncomfortable about it, so there was no need to ask anything further.

"Cool, fair enough. Well, if you could just lie down, we can get right to business."

He watched as the young man settled himself on the chair, as he prepared his tools to apply the stencil and get to work.

An hour later and the tattoo was finished, cleaned up and covered neatly with some clingfilm to prevent an infection. Everything went smoothly, and the client had paid. Sure, he was cute, but nothing had really happened apart from that. 

As the boy prepared to leave, Seonghwa was overcome with the urge to learn one last thing about him. It was a tiny request, but maybe it would help set him at ease. 

"Thanks for visiting. By the way, I realise I never asked. What's your name?"

The same lip twitch. Gulp of air. Scratch at the neck.

"Oh. The name's San." 

And with that, he turned and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, pretty short. Sorry. I think most chapters will be like this, but we'll have to see. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!  
> ~Jesse


	4. Interlude: Distortion

How did we end up here? 

In such a distorted, mangled place we call the future.

I never wanted to see you again. Not after that day. 

You were just some attractive tattoo artist who happened to be working when I walked in.

There was no reason for me to end up here. With you.

Yet, as I look around, I can see you. Everywhere I look, it's as if you're always there.

But of course, that's not the case.

I swore to myself I'd never see you again, if it was the last thing I did. 

And maybe it will be.

Maybe I'll see you one more time.


	5. Mountain

"So, how are you feeling today San?"

A voice rang out in my ears, echoing around my skull. Too loud.

"Fine. Please be quieter" 

I managed to force out an answer, opening my eyes cautiously as if it was the first time I could do so. 

In front of me sat a woman, maybe in her early 30s? Her glasses sat on the end of her nose, threatening to fall to the granite floor below if she tilted her head too far. The clipboard balanced on her lap followed suit, wobbling precariously and dropping slightly. A slim hand darted down to grab it, with an accompanying snap of the clip, releasing the many papers which had previously been concealed by the strategic placement of her arm. 

"Oh, excuse me! Let me pick these up, I'm so sorry..." 

She mumbled on and on, a stream of apologies and mild curses leaving her lips. 

Without a word, I left my seat of the solid wooden chair and crouched down to collect the stray papers for her. I didn't bother to read them. I knew what they said. 

'Choi San. 20 years old. Dissociative Amnesia.'

I don't know who Choi San is. Well, I do. It's me. My name, what I was called when I was born. It means mountain. 

Five months ago I came here. Five months of not knowing my own life story. Five months of strangers telling me who I am, what my favourite colour is, when I broke my wrist. 

I was seven, by the way. When I broke my wrist. They told me it happened because I fell off a swing, and when my friends asked me if I was okay, I told them it was just a scratch. Apparently, you could see the bone. So, I don't think I had much common sense when I was young. 

I can't even remember my family. All I know about them is what I've learned from relatives, and any pictures I've been shown.

It hurts, not knowing your family. Your parents, the people who raised you and taught you everything you know, and you can't remember their faces. I can't even remember what they taught me, so what's the point.

Something is wrong with me. It feels like I don't have my own life, instead just wandering around aimlessly until I eventually die. 

I really don't have the energy to live like this. Building my life up from the bottom again, relearning my entire identity, taught to me by people I have no recollection of knowing. It feels so hopeless, so stupid and so frustrating trying to feel something amidst this mess. I'm sick of having to try to feel things. 

I don't know who Choi San is. Well, I do. It's me. 

But I don't know who I am.


End file.
